


all the more loved for being different

by Princex_N



Category: Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: Ableism, Acceptance, Autism, Autistic Moomin, Autistic Snufkin, Family Feels, Fluff, Found Family, Friendship/Love, Gen, Protectiveness, Self-Acceptance, Self-Esteem Issues, Stimming, past bullying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-20 16:55:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18529225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princex_N/pseuds/Princex_N
Summary: Snufkin finds that it's very nice, and quite a relief, to have a place so welcoming to return to, after the months of having gone back to being disliked.





	all the more loved for being different

**Author's Note:**

> i'm STILL thinking about [That](https://www.drawnandquarterly.com/press/2016/01/frank-cottrell-boyce-five-things-learn-moomins) article

Snufkin is very familiar with the sensation of not being liked.

He has, after all, been around for a while now. He's been to a good number of places and experienced a good number of things and met a variety of people. He's played the game of trying to get along with others a number of times, and yet, it never seemed to get any easier. 

He isn't sure when it all began, but he supposes it must have started when he was born. After all, he'd been found in a basket, and he's learned by now that this isn't what one tends to do with a child. He doesn't remember what it is he must have done to annoy whoever had him before, but he's familiar enough with the way things are to know that he must have done  _something_. 

It had taken him a long time to come to terms with all of this. He'd spent far too much time trying to figure out what it was that made his presence so abrasive to other people - hiding or changing parts of himself to try and find a way to better fit in with them. It had taken him too long to realize that there was no point - whatever it was about him that others didn't like persevered through every one of his alterations. And with the few that had found him tolerable when he'd hidden enough of his nature, he was always dissatisfied. Too focused on behaving the Right Way and saying the Right Thing to have any mind left to actually enjoy the moments he was having. 

So, he'd learned to give up instead. 

There was a specific relief in learning how to not care what other people thought of him. It took a long time, and required a lot of effort, but he considers it a worthwhile endeavor. To neglect to care what others thought was to have all the more energy to enjoy what he did. It was strange, and then novel, and then natural to allow himself to behave in all the ways he'd gotten so used to struggling to hide, say all of the things he'd forced himself to swallow (or stay silent through all of the situations he'd forced himself to speak in). 

And then he'd met Moomin. 

Moomin wasn't really any different, at first, to anyone else Snufkin had met. They had encountered each other on the road, and Snufkin had invited him to stay the way he usually tended to with strangers he met. Although other people tended to not like Snufkin, Snufkin typically enjoyed meeting new people - provided they were polite enough and didn't become overwhelming. He hadn't expected them to stay for very long (people very rarely did, once they got over the novelty of encountering a tramp like him), but they had surprised him. 

At first, he supposed that perhaps it was simply because he was a traveler and they were discoverers, which are similar enough to get along. But it seemed more than that. Rather than getting annoyed by his manner of speaking, Moomin seemed to match him with ease. Instead of the usual snide comments about the way Snufkin sat or moved, Moomin seemed to move the same way without thinking. It didn't feel as if Moomin was trying to change the way he behaved to fit in with Snufkin, and Snufkin was certainly long past the point of trying to pretend to fit in with other people. 

Instead, it seemed to Snufkin that he had finally found someone else like him, and when he had invited himself along on their journey (too intrigued by the prospect to pass the opportunity by), Moomin had happily agreed.

And although things had been going well, Snufkin had also been waiting for the pleasantries to come to an end. He had met a great deal of different people, and even though he had never met someone  _like him_ before, he didn't really think that things would be any different. They would get along for a while, and then Snufkin would finally do something or say something (or not say something) that would be the 'final straw', as they all tended to say, and then he would be on his own again. 

But it never seemed to happen.

Snufkin's hands flapped as he rambled on about stars for much longer than he knew most other people cared to listen. He rocked back and forth as he cried over the apparent loss of the sea. Spoke a little too long about his thoughts and philosophies. He was picky, and strange, and a little too quiet at odd moments, and although he made no effort to hide these parts of himself, he still found himself surprised when no one seemed bothered by them. It wasn't as if he did it on purpose to drive them off, but the fact that they hadn't already left was a sharp veer off script that left him feeling oddly strange footed. 

It was equal parts grating and intriguing. Made him want to get up and leave himself as much as it made him want to try and stay for as long as possible. 

It began with Moomin but didn't end with him. Sniff and Little My, Snorkmaiden and her brother, and Moominpappa and Moominmamma. The last two may have been the most surprising. Aside from a few very solitary sort, those much older than Snufkin always seemed to have the most problems with him being who he was. But instead they took to his presence in their valley, in their  _home_ , with an ease and kindness Snufkin wasn't sure he had ever experienced.

It was thrilling. 

It was absolutely terrifying. 

Snufkin had never experienced the threat of loss before - not in any significant way. He had the clothes on his back, the hat on his head, and his mouth organ, and that was all. He preferred it that way. He'd never had  _people_ before - ones who knew him and liked him and said his name happily when they saw him approach, who valued his opinions and the things that he said and appreciated all the things that made him so  _strange_. 

("It's always very nice to see you respond to things," Moominpappa said one day, standing a few feet behind Snufkin as he sat in the rain and listened to the thunder, swaying and flapping his hands at the sound. "When you go on as many big adventures as I have, it's easy to forget about the small novelties. You remind me to appreciate them.")

("I'm always very glad when I see you're still here," Moomin admitted one afternoon as he watched Snufkin fish in the river. "Sometimes I worry that you'll just leave without saying goodbye, because you're so much cooler than me, and I don't understand you all the time, but you're my best friend, and I'm always relieved when I hear your music in the morning.")

("It's always so good to see you, dear," Moominmamma told him warmly, seeing him wander into her kitchen. "It's a great deal of fun to me to figure out ways to make food in a way that you'll like. Oh," she'd laughed at herself, "forgive me for saying something so strange. But it's also nice to see how happy Moomin is, when you're around.")

(All of these and dozens more, precious gifts given with a kind thoughtlessness that made it apparent that they had no idea how strange and valuable the comments could ever be.)

It's strange, but quite far from unwelcome. 

* * *

He leaves because he can't quite stop himself. 

Although the nagging voice in the back of his head reminding him that everything is temporary has faded, and he's begun to come to terms with the apparent reality that is the Moominfamily's reaction to his presence, Snufkin is aware of his nature. His circumstances may have changed, and he might have found a place where he is actively welcomed, but he himself has not, and the call to continue his travels is too compelling to ignore. 

For the first time, however, he leaves with the promises to return. 

He ponders the nature of this promise as he leaves. He had been serious about being willing to return, because although Snufkin has not changed he has become aware of the fact that he enjoys being around other people in a manner he had never been given the opportunity to explore before. The need to travel and be alone was as important as ever, but so too is the desire to return, and be amongst these people he had found a refuge in. 

It's just that he's not entirely sure that they'd welcome him back, after he was gone. 

Snufkin doesn't quite believe that they had been lying when they were kind to him or when they said they were looking forward to seeing him return (Moomin in particular, who had seemed so  _sad_ at the prospect, and who'd needed  _several_ promises to return before he even seemed to think of cheering up). It's just that an entire season is an awfully long time, and time apart is the perfect recipe for thinking back on things and realizing what had gone poorly with them. 

It's entirely within the realm of possibility for Snufkin to leave, and to return, only to have them realize that they didn't appreciate his presence that much after all. 

It's possible, but it's not what happens. 

Snufkin returns to Moominvalley in the Spring, tempering his own excitement with the reminders he'd been given during the Winter by the others he had met, and is greeted with welcome arms and enthusiastic greetings. Moomin comes barreling down the road and nearly knocks Snufkin off of his feet (and Snufkin, who has never quite appreciated the awkward hugs he'd been given over the years, finds that he'd find them  _much_ more pleasant if they all felt like  _this_ ). Moominmamma and Moominpappa are not quite so physical, but they greet him warmly and seem genuine when they ask how his travels have been. Little My and Snuff are neither warm nor particularly enthusiastic, but they greet him in their own ways and seem pleased in the ways they usually are.

Snufkin finds that it's very nice, and quite a relief, to have a place so welcoming to return to after the months of having gone back to being disliked. 

* * *

"Oh dear, your jacket looks like it's gotten quite the tear," Moominmamma exclaims one day, and Snufkin startles - not only because he hadn't heard her approaching behind him, but also because he gets the sense he knows what's coming. He's had his clothes for nearly as long as he can remember, and has never appreciated the insinuations or instructions to replace them with newer things. "If you'd like, I could patch it up for you." 

The refusal to go to a store is already on his tongue, and Snufkin has to take a moment to process the way the conversation has  _actually_ gone. He considers her offer for a second, and imagines the glaringly out of place patch on his back where he knows a hole is, and the thought of the change makes his nose crinkle.

"No thank you, Moominmamma," he tells her, voice thankfully neutral (because she had been kind in offering, and he doesn't want to sound as disgusted by the idea as he actually is, because he isn't as though the problem is with her). "I don't think I care much for the sight of a patch," he can't help but elaborate. 

"Oh, well in that case," she says without pause, "I could darn it for you." 

Snufkin tilts his head in confusion, open to hearing an explanation but unsure of where it could be going. "I can't see how cursing it could help much with a hole." 

Moominmamma laughs, and he almost bristles at the sound, but doesn't. She doesn't seem to be laughing at him, after all, or at least not in an  _unkind_ way. "No, 'darning' is a way of mending holes," she explains cheerfully. "Hardly leaves a mark if you've done it right, although it takes quite a bit longer. Come see." 

She holds out the edge of her apron for his inspection, and he steps closer, curiosity getting the better of him. Sure enough, he can see quite a few marks on the fabric where spots seem to have been mended, but he couldn't have noticed without being told. 

"Could you?" he asks, glancing up towards her face (one of the many things he's found to appreciate about Moomintrolls is that their noses make it quite easy to avoid looking directly into their eyes). 

"Of course!" she tells him, seeming pleased that they've found a way for her to help. "I think I even have a thread that will match the color perfectly!" 

She takes his coat with an air of care that Snufkin appreciates, and although she assures him that he doesn't need to stay, he does. He believes that he can trust her with the task, of course, but Moomin is of with Snorkmaiden today, and a skill like this could be quite invaluable should he run into a similar issue while off on his travels. 

Seeming to understand his desire to learn, although Snufkin hasn't said any of this aloud, she explains the mechanics of the technique clearly and doesn't mind when he asks questions (or stares almost unblinkingly at her while she works). She seems happy to have a student, which Snufkin thinks might make sense, since no one else in the valley seems too terribly concerned with learning such things for themselves (Snufkin, who is often alone and who understands the risk of loss, feels the need a little more urgently). 

When she is finished (which takes a little while longer than she had initially planned, considering how she kept finding new places in need of mending. It was quite an old jacket, after all), she returns it with a small flourish and Snufkin lets his fingers roam over the texture and marvels aloud at the lack of discrepancy. 

"I'm glad I could help!" she says cheerfully, cleaning up loose threads and needles. "Your coat is so important to you - it's nice to know it will last you even longer now."

It may be the first time anyone has bothered to acknowledge the importance of his coat. Snufkin heads back to his tent, but doesn't put the jacket back on quite yet, instead continuing to run his fingers over the mended areas while marveling to himself _, What an incredible family this is_. 

* * *

"Snufkin!" Moomin's voice rings as clear as ever over the empty fields of Moominvalley and through the fabric of Snufkin's tent, and Snufkin is as pleased as always to hear him approach. 

"I have something for you!" Moomin tells him, unable to wait until after Snufkin has emerged properly from the tent. 

Snufkin glances around, not quite opposed, yet. Although...

"Is it a gift?" he asks, a little annoyed by the prospect. (It isn't as though he doesn't understand the sentiments behind gift-giving, but he feels how he feels about owning things, and intentions don't change much about it. Although, perhaps he might try a little harder to appear grateful, if it was Moomin.)

But he doesn't seem to have need worry at all. "Nope!" Moomin tells him pleasantly, and Snufkin allows himself the relief of not needing to put together the Right Way to respond to a present. "It's mine, but I thought you might like to see it." 

"Of course," Snufkin tells him, much more comfortable with this outcome. "What is it?" 

Moomin opens his mouth excitedly, and then falters. "Oh," he says, a little sheepishly. "It's at home. Are you too busy to come over?" 

"I'm never too busy for you," Snufkin tells him, although he  _had_ been planning on fishing. The pleased flutter of Moomin's paws makes the small untruth worth the change in plans. 

On the walk back to the house, Moomin explains that it had been a gift from his mother (although he is careful not to say exactly what 'it' is, still keen on it being a surprise) and that he'd known immediately that Snufkin would probably be interested in seeing it for himself. Snufkin admits that he's intrigued by now, to see what it could be.

Up in Moomin's room, Snufkin spots the new addition almost immediately (delayed only by the second it had taken to check and see if the bed in the corner - "Snufkin's Bed", as dubbed by Moomin - was still there. It was, and Snufkin knows it's the thought behind the bed that pleases him more than the bed itself does - which may have been the point of it in the first place, since he rarely uses it and they only _insist_ when the weather is particularly terrible, after which he usually winds up just sharing with Moomin) but waits for Moomin to indicate it to ask what it is - because he doesn't quite understand what's particularly exciting about a blanket. 

"It's a blanket," Moomin says, which is a bit underwhelming. "But you have to come try it first." 

Snufkin isn't quite sure what could come second since - in his experience - a blanket is a blanket, but he doesn't question it because it's  _Moomin_ , and goes over to sit where Moomin has indicated without question. 

The first surprise is the strange rattling noise that fills the room as Moomin picks the blanket up, and the second surprise is the substantial weight of it when he places it on Snufkin's lap. 

"Goodness," Snufkin breathes, and Moomin makes a funny little giddy noise at his surprise. "What is it so heavy for?" 

"It's weighted," Moomin explains, pleased to be the one educating Snufkin on a subject, instead of the usual way around. "It's to help make it more comfortable - a lot better than the very light ones, isn't it?" 

Snufkin admits that he has a point and settles in a little more naturally to explore the concept a little further. It's quite a bit more comfortable than most other blankets, and the weight reminds him of the satisfied feeling of his backpack (or, occasionally, Little My) in his lap. He can imagine that it would be just as nice spread out fully like an actual blanket should. 

"It is very nice!" Snufkin tells him and smiles at the little hop Moomin gives at the verdict. 

"I thought you might!" he says, sitting down next to Snufkin. "But I didn't think you'd want one for yourself, since it's too heavy to carry for very long." Oblivious to the way Snufkin's breath catches slightly at the consideration, he continues, "But, you can share it with me on the nights you sleep indoors. Don't you think?" 

Snufkin has never before gotten the urge to hug someone else, but he thinks that this must be what it feels like. He doesn't, because he isn't quite sure if he  _should_ , or if it would be welcome, but he thinks about it. 

Instead he smiles as broadly as he can, swaying happily under the weight of Moomin's gaze and the blanket in his lap, and says, "Of course I do."

* * *

Snufkin is sitting on the porch, looking out over the fields as the rain pours down in a torrent when Moominpappa calls his name from one of the windows. 

"Yes?" he calls back, not quite able to see him without stepping out into the rain, but relatively willing to if asked. 

"Would you mind coming up to my study?" Moominpappa asks instead. "It shouldn't take terribly long." 

Snufkin, having only been listening to the rain, which shouldn't be stopping any time soon, calls back an affirmative and makes his way into the house. He's not entirely sure what he could be needed for, but more often than not, Snufkin is perfectly willing to at least  _try_ to be helpful. 

"Moominpappa?" he asks, craning his neck around the door. It's unusual for others to be allowed in the study while he's working - apparently the risk of distraction is something taken very seriously, although Snufkin often doesn't see the point. Distractions are usually a sign that what you were doing wasn't particularly engaging to the you of the moment, after all, and such signs should be followed willingly. 

"Yes! Come in, come in," he says, so Snufkin does, and is eagerly waved over to the desk. "I was hoping you could assist me with a bit of reviewing." 

"Me?" Snufkin asks, a little startled. It isn't as if he can't or doesn't read, but it's rare that others consider him capable enough, much less consider asking him for help with writing something. He's not sure what it is about him that communicates this quality, but he hardly minds. But Moominpappa, who is usually quite secretive about the status of his memoirs, is a little more surprising than most. 

"Of course!" Moominpappa cries, seeming almost surprised himself. "You don't need to, especially if you were busy, but I would find your help most invaluable. You have quite the way with words, after all." 

Snufkin hums, a little flattered. "I don't tend to speak very much," he points out, willing to help, but unsure if Moominpappa has thought it through entirely. The last thing he'd want is to try to help only to have it wind up worse in the long run. 

"Even better!" Moominpappa exclaims. "Communicating effectively with fewer words is much more impressive than trying to draw things out unnecessarily. Do you want to help?" 

Snufkin wonders if this family will ever cease surprising him. 

As he sits down on the floor (fully aware of the extra chair in the room, but not wanting to sit in it at the moment) to read what Moominpappa has written, he almost hopes that the answer will be no.

* * *

The time that Snufkin has spent in the valley has never changed his perceptions about how the majority of people see him. 

After all, although he's spent the better part of several years in Moominvalley, he is still gone for the Winters and has found the people in other places to be the same as they always have been. It's not the most pleasant experience, but at least the reminders make his return to the valley all the more significant. 

Essentially, he's not entirely surprised by the attitude he gets from the person passing through Moominvalley.

The stories he has to tell aren't too impressive to Snufkin, but the others are intrigued by the novelty, and Snufkin doesn't care enough to argue against having him there for dinner. 

Not even when he makes a snide comment about Snufkin's behavior during the conversation while the others aren't quite paying attention. Snufkin doesn't particularly care - he's used to it, after all, and at the end of the day  _he'll_ be the one staying in Moominvalley. What would be the point in causing a fuss? (Snufkin doesn't do anything to change how he's acting, of course, because he also doesn't care for being told what to do, and cares about the opinion of this stranger even less.)

He doesn't expect much to come out of it - he certainly knows that they won't do anything like join in, but even those that don't participate tend to limit the conflict to pitying glances or uncomfortable subject changes. 

Possibly the last thing he's expecting is for them to get into an argument over it. 

"People who don't participate in conversations don't need to stay around to hear them," the newcomer says, a sort of smug tone to his voice. 

Snufkin, who wasn't particularly invested or interested in the stranger's stories, stands easily to leave. He hardly minds, both because he's gotten this request before (although he's never particularly understood the discomfort with having someone who listens but doesn't speak during a conversation) and because he has no desire to give the man the hurt response he's out to get. 

What he's less used to is the immediate, "Snufkin has plenty of interesting things to say, he just prefers to listen more sometimes. He's a very good listener!" that Moomin interjects to say. 

The man laughs, "Sure, he's welcome to stay - if you don't mind having someone  _simple_ around." 

Snufkin doesn't consider himself a particularly complicated person but judging by the look of outrage in Moominmamma's eyes and the small sound that Moomin makes that is equal parts angry and hurt, there's something about the term that he's missed in this context. It must be an insult, and while Snufkin couldn't care less about the dig at  _him_ , it's clear that Moomin has taken some offense to it, and  _that_ makes Snufkin angry. 

He doesn't even get a chance to piece together something to say, or do, before Moominmamma is whisking the plate away from the man and saying in a very firm voice that she doesn't often use, "I believe you should probably be going on your way." 

The man laughs as if he thinks she's joking but seems to falter when it becomes clear that she isn't, and he doesn't put up much of a fight as he gathers his things and leaves. It's almost anticlimactic - Snufkin probably could have done a lot worse, but it's almost more relieving to just have him leave without the chaos. 

"I'm sorry you had to put up with that," Moomin huffs, looking as if he has half a mind to pursue the traveler anyway. 

Snufkin allows himself to smile. "It's not a big deal," he assures them. "It's nothing I haven't heard before." 

Moominmamma looks a little as though she wants to hug him, but she keeps her paws busy with clearing the table instead. "Oh, but it isn't something you should  _have_ to." 

"I suppose not," he agrees easily, because trying to think of Moomin hearing the same comments makes something in his stomach tight with anger. "But your valley isn't much like other places - you hear it all quite a lot out there." 

He half expects someone to make a comment about his yearly departure - to ask why he leaves or insist that he stay. But Moomin only says, "Then I'm glad you have here to come back to, so you don't have to worry about any of that." 

Snufkin feels a bit as though something had stolen the breath from his lungs - a sensation he's started getting an awful lot when Moomin is around. Especially when Moominmamma and Moominpappa only nod seriously, echoing the sentiment. 

 _Sometimes I'm not sure how any of you could possibly be real_ , he wants to say _, No one else has ever stood up for me like that before, no one else has ever made me feel as welcome as you do._

 _I think that every one of you have taught me how it feels to be loved_ , he could tell them, _and I'm not sure how I could ever pay you back for that_. 

"I'm glad too," is what he tells them instead, something shy making his eyes flick to the floor and his legs swing beneath his chair. "Thank you." 

They smile at him, the expressions fitting and familiar on their faces, and Snufkin thinks that, while he is familiar with the sensation of not being liked, he's beginning to acclimatize to the feeling of being  _loved_. 

He plans to hold onto it for as long as he can. 

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr](http://www.princex-n.tumblr.com)


End file.
